


Heal These Broken Wings

by allthebeautifulthings9828



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angel Wings, Bottom Castiel, Bottom Dean, Castiel Loves Dean, Castiel/Dean Winchester One Shot, Dean Loves Castiel, Explicit Sexual Content, Ficlet, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Kissing, Love, M/M, One Shot, POV Dean Winchester, Romance, Smut, Switching, Top Castiel, Top Dean, Topping from the Bottom, Wing Kink, Winged Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-04-01 01:34:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4000945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthebeautifulthings9828/pseuds/allthebeautifulthings9828
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Like newlyweds, Dean and Castiel spend every opportunity learning about each other in the privacy and intimacy in lovemaking. Sometimes Dean even finds himself worshiping the angel that now belongs to him alone. But soon, Dean finds himself in a rather unexpected position--now he can see Castiel's wings when they tumble in bed together. What does it mean?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heal These Broken Wings

Once, while Castiel loomed over him with strong thighs gripped tight around his hips, Dean's aching, consuming desire shifted abruptly into awe. Their pelvises had been snapping eagerly against each other since the moments just before sunrise without precision or any sense of show. Early morning sex woke Castiel without the typical grousing attitude he exhibited, and that morning, he'd climbed over Dean and taken control.

But all at once, lost in the overpowering sensations still so very new to him, Castiel's body stretched and his spine arched. It wasn't the last throes of a man coming undone by spasms of release--no, he wasn't there yet. His hands spread over Dean's lower abdomen, tracing fingertips along the sensitive, soft skin near the springy hair that marked where their bodies joined. Goosebumps prickled Dean directly to his nipples and he arched, not that anything gave his chest the friction it desired. Still so solidly rigid, he dug a heel into the mattress and created a faint bouncing rhythm up into Castiel, who murmured unintelligibly amid soft moans.

The arching, though, the shift in Castiel's body as his head tipped back and caught the sunlight of a young morning hitched the breath in Dean's chest. Instinct made him slow that steady climb to oblivion. He watched Castiel above him, rocking with his swollen, wet lips parted and his eyes fluttering between the urge to totally lose himself and the need to stay wholly connected to Dean.

Golden dawn light outlined Castiel's bare flesh, highlighting the olive tones so much richer than Dean had expected before they first tumbled into each other's arms. The light over the hard planes deepened the shadows cutting into each muscle as it tightened in pleasure. Light and dark carved out Castiel's body.

Dean was enthralled. Stunned, even. His own pleasure subsided, content to witness Castiel revel in his as he rolled his hips and skimmed his hands up and down Dean's chest. Sometimes in the quiet, lazy aftermath, the angel spoke of his particular draw to Dean's chest because, he said, the colors of his soul bled through there. Such a deep sense of intimacy was as new to Dean as physical love was to Castiel, allowing them to discover each other slowly over time.

Rising over Dean again, the angel tilted back and changed his angle, thereby jolting both of them back into the spell of pure sensation. Eyes briefly fell shut as Dean groaned and lifted his hips into his lover, pushing deeper, deeper, always becoming part of him. Despite the ease with which they fit together, Castiel's most intimate flesh touched Dean in all the right places, easily pushing him over the edge in just a few minutes if they allowed it. But they didn't. That morning, Castiel took his time and led them more than once to the precipice but then gently let go and pulled them back to begin again. It was a test of Dean's patience, yet he gave in to each of Castiel's whims, all too happy to please him.

The angel bend forward again, his body forming an arc over Dean as they kissed. Slow and full of languid exploration as if they had years to enjoy the sunrise together, he wrapped a scarred, calloused hand around the nape of Castiel's neck. The agitated, hardened column of flesh between Castiel's legs rubbed against Dean's belly as they joined together, pulled apart, joined together, and created their own rhythm. Breathy moans puffed into Dean's mouth and he smiled into his lover's kiss.

A devious urge overtook him, as did a rather Winchester need for control. He worked his hand between their bodies and looped his fingers around Castiel's swollen, slick flesh. At first, blue eyes popped open and fought the delicious haze coming over him, but his body won out in the end. Instinctive bucking into Dean's fist increased and Dean's head fell back, eyes closed, giving himself over to the way that solid, strong body rode him. He squeezed the head and prompted a shocked moan and a hissing breath through Castiel's clenched teeth. The angel's plans for a lazy climb quickly gave way to a rise to physical completion.

Castiel flipped upright again. The sudden emptiness left by a broken kiss opened Dean's eyes and he grabbed a thigh, urging Castiel to give them more friction. Yes, more, he wordlessly pleaded, unable to form sounds beyond gasping groans and growls as he bit his lower lip. He pumped upward, harder now, striking Castiel deep within where he knew it would send electric teases of a pending release rippling through his body.

Watching the angel move in a vaguely serpentine way as his thighs clenched with the effort of plunging onto Dean again and again grew hypnotizing. Hooded lids only gave brief glimpses of blue eyes gazing at nothing as if his entire body redirected all of its strength on making love to Dean. The blue slits glowed, which wasn't uncommon in the moments before he came, but it still amazed Dean every time he witnessed it. Recognizing the approaching rupture of tension, he kept one hand on Castiel's thigh and the other pumping the fullness of his length. Slick skin passed easily between his fingers and he openly took in the sight of Castiel's naked body gradually losing all decorum in the golden glow of sunlight through the window.

The delicious tension began coiling up in Dean's belly, rooted deep where they joined, and he nearly gave himself over to it. He glanced up and noticed the shadows behind Castiel's undulating shoulders shifted, molded, and darkened of their own accord. The fight to maintain his momentum faltered as his vision blurred for a moment. When Dean blinked rapidly, clearing his eyes, he nearly stopped stroking Castiel altogether and almost threw him off. Only their bond, their love kept each other tethered to the moment. Castiel rode him harder, with all the strength and violence of an angel overcome by the building orgasm getting ready to corkscrew up his spine. He chewed his lip and moaned ferociously, sounds that kept Dean going in spite of not believing one inch of what he saw. The bed trembled, an unseen gust of wind ripped through the curtains, and Castiel swore sinful words between moans. He was in his favorite position, possessed by the feeling of Dean buried and thrusting mercilessly into him.

But what Dean saw--he couldn't reconcile it. Looming over Castiel's shoulders and nearly filling the room were a pair of wings so black that they shined purple, blue, and green in the morning light. Every time Dean blinked, thinking it was his imagination, those wings only came sharper into focus as if materializing like ghosts. He wasn't supposed to see angel wings. It couldn't be real. Yet the black iridescence rippled in time with Castiel's pleasure over each feather, growing brighter and more intense. Dean's eyes stung.

Just as he tried to pull himself together enough to say something, Castiel arched sharply and let out a series of hoarse cries in time with pulsing spouts of thick stickiness coating Dean's fist and abdomen. Clenching and hard bouncing finally proved too much for him as well. The physical was no match for the mental in that moment as the force of his own release felt like it pushed him into the mattress. His head tossed back and rough moans spilled from his gaping mouth, consumed by being wholly surrounded by the one being who truly loved him and trusted him. Blackness fell for a few moments--or perhaps even minutes--as if his body couldn't cope with the rawness of the experience and simply checked out.

"Dean...." the angel's voice rolled around his head.

"Yeah...." he mumbled.

Opening his eyes, he only found those bright blue eyes hovering over him, matching a lazy and content smile. Castiel's elbows bend, lowering his lips to meet Dean's in a soft kiss, completely restrained where he had been wild only moments before.

"I think Sam probably heard us that time," he whispered, amused.

Dean grinned in his quiet delirium. "I don't care."

Being drawn slowly back to reality again made the apparition of Castiel's wings resurface in his mind. He hated himself for being afraid to look again but fear wasn't Dean's way so, as he casually drew lines with his fingertips over Castiel's arms, he lifted his eyes.

Nothing. Only sunlight bringing out scattered gold streaks in his wrecked hair.

Castiel's face inclined to one side. "What?"

"I...." Dean didn't even know how to say it. He tried to sit up instead. "Let's hop in the shower and clean up."

"Wait." A firm hand planted on Dean's chest and he knew Castiel could feel his soul trembling in there. "Tell me what's the matter, Dean. Did I...." He hesitated, eyes flickering down and up again. "Did I do it wrong? Because I told you to teach me if I hurt you or--"

"No, no, babe." Now he felt terrible. He clutched Castiel's wrist and brought his folded fingers to his lips. "You're great. Best I ever had, really."

Those trusting eyes stared at him in questioning, faintly insecure silence.

"I think I saw your wings right before you...." Dean turned his hand to signify the moment of orgasm but didn't look Castiel in the eye. "Not the shadows. The actual fucking wings. Feathers and everything. But then, after it was over, there was nothing there again."

The angel nodded.

"I dunno, Cas. It kinda freaked me out. You said humans can't see that kind of stuff."

"That's true," said Castiel softly.

Dean scoffed and rubbed a nervous hand through his ruffled hair. "So, what, did I accidentally do some bad magic or something? I don't like it. We always pay for magic in blood."

"No," said Castiel, shaking his head. He draped his arms loosely around Dean's neck and, still naked, they nuzzled. Castiel's cheek pillowed on the meaty part of Dean's shoulder and he bent, rubbing his nose and mouth over Castiel's hair. "Don't worry, Dean. You're so used to being punished for what you are and the road your life has taken that you're struggling to see a gift when you receive it. You're not going to be punished for seeing my wings any more than I'll be punished for my wings healing faster now that we're together."

"Healing faster?"

"Yes. My wings have been battered and broken since I got my grace back. It's been excruciatingly painful," he admitted.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I don't complain about things that can't be fixed." The finality of that statement sent a cold bolt of lightning through Dean. "The first time you admitted loving me, it was such a relief that I felt new feathers taking root immediately. It was like being washed in cool spring water."

For a time, Dean remained silent. He tried working through it in his mind, how it could be possible.

Castiel's arms tightened around him. "Our bond is strong enough to transcend time and reason. It healed the damage Metatron did to me. If you saw my wings, then it only makes sense that it happened when we were at our closest."

"Wow...." whispered Dean. After a moment, he pushed Castiel on his back and gazed down at him, hands planted on the bed. "Let's try to make it happen again."


End file.
